


Let Your Heart Be Light

by TinyBat



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: AU, Christmas, F/M, Fluff, Prompt Fill, Strike Team Epsilon, Ward isn't Hydra
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 13:09:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2813123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinyBat/pseuds/TinyBat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christmas cheer, DWARVES, rum, and a near universally maligned plant help Ward get the one thing he really wanted for Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Your Heart Be Light

**Author's Note:**

> For the AoS Holiday Fic Exchange. 
> 
> Request: Anything fluff-tastic/mature rated (doesn't have to be) with Ward x Simmons. Christmassy is good. Team fluff is also great! Not very picky. I love awkward/jealous Ward.

Not that it was unusual for him this time of year, but Grant had settled himself in a corner of the common room with a neutral expression, and some seriously doctored egg nog. Christmas wasn’t his thing, not that anyone who’d ever seen a Ward family Christmas could blame him, all Martha Stewart glamour, Rockwell-ian charm and ruthlessness to send Lady MacBeth running. 

Still, for now at least, he let himself try to enjoy the moment, his team, his friends, all getting into the holiday spirit. Simmons in particular had taken to decorating The Playground with enthusiasm. Saying that even if none of them really bought into the religious aspect, the gift giving, scent of pine, and baked cookies, and alcohol were more than enough. If he wanted one thing this year, it was Jemma, and everyone knew it but her.

“You’re staring.” A voice said, dripping with both rum, and amusement. Bobbi, ever the one to hone in on his issues, had taken up a piece of wall next to him, leaning against it and smiling like a cat after a canary massacre.

“Am I?” Grant asked, turning to face her and glowering. It wouldn’t put her off, it never had, but he’d try anyway since it’s what she expected.

“You were, and it’s kinda sad. Do you want my advice?”

“No.” he said flatly, knowing full well what it would be.

“Too bad. At least talk to her, I’m not saying you should pick her up, take her back to the lab, and have your way with her. Even if she’d probably love it. Just go wish her a Merry Christmas, maybe bring her a drink. “ Bobbi insisted, a hand landing heavily on Grant’s shoulder and pushing him forward.

“When you wake up to a floor covered in legos, and dye-paks I really hope you aren’t surprised.” He grumbled, grateful, but definitely convinced that she really had taken on a little too much of Barton’s personality during the time she, Trip, and himself had spent training under Delta.

“Grinch.” Bobbi shot back, giving him another light shove, and then just dragging him over to a chair and all put forcing him into it. 

“Oh good, you’ve decided to join us. Fitz programmed one of the DWARVES to do something horrible with mistletoe, and it’s better if we’re all in danger.” Jemma chirped, handing him yet more eggnog, smiling brightly. He briefly wondered if she knew exactly how lovely she was and was using it to manipulate him. A gentle hand on his arm gave him the answer. 

“It’s not horrible, or entirely my fault. I wanted them to simulate falling snow.” Fitz whined, glaring over at Skye who was happily sucking on a candy cane, looking far too pleased with herself.   
“Well, I’m here. We may as well get it over with. “ Grant sighed, fervently hoping they hadn’t run out of rum. 

“Right. Christmas spin the bottle, only if you don’t want to kiss the person, you take a shot instead.” Jemma said, an empty bottle being passed off to a modified Sleepy, the DWARF giving the bottle a spin while Lance, and Trip filled shot glasses.

It landed on Bobbi, and to the surprise of all, Fitz. Fitz, not entirely sure whether or not he would need the drink to fortify himself, didn’t get the chance to make the decision. Bobbi leaned over the table, pulled him in by his truly hideous Christmas sweater, and kissed him hard on the mouth. Upon pulling back, they both looked a little surprised, Fitz turning an unattractive shade of red, and Bobbi eyeing the young man with something akin to fascination. 

“Aaaand moving on…” Lance said, spinning the bottle himself, and shaking his head. One end landed on Skye, who popped the candy cane out of her mouth with a delighted grin when she saw Jemma was on the other. 

“Merry Christmas to me.” Skye said slyly, moving over on the couch for Jemma, slightly tipsy but no less delighted, to slide into her lap. Grant, close to just drinking until he couldn’t move, found that it was near impossible to keep his eyes off of Jemma, even as she embraced someone he came very close to considering a younger sister. That was what he wanted, and watching her lips part, her hands reach, it lit a fire in his chest, kindled with jealousy, and lust he’d worked quite a ways toward containing.

Trip snapped a picture of the girls locked in a scorching kiss, then took one of Grant in a full blown sulk, a sympathetic expression crossing his face. They’d spent quite a few nights trying to sort through Grant’s emotional baggage. 

“Ladies, we’d leave you alone, but there’s a game to finish.” Mack interrupted, indicating the bottle on the table.

“Right, yeah. Thanks, Jem.” Skye said, winking as Jemma reluctantly went back to her seat.

The night went on, Ward opting to drink instead of kissing anyone, but enjoying the expressions on the faces of the team mates who hesitated when their turns came. Gifts were exchanged, the usual argument about what movie to watch raged on, but with a holiday twist. Eventually everyone began filing out, Fitz first, then Lance, Mack, Bobbi, and Trip, leaving only Skye, Jemma, and himself.

Skye was just about done re-organizing the couch cushions, and Jemma had finished straightening the stockings on the mantle. Grant, for his gloominess, had been the one to make sure the tree was watered, and that it still held evenly on its stand.

Skye, once again too smart for her own good, snuck out quietly, either to her own room, or to someone else’s, leaving Grant to agonize over Jemma, tired, lovely, and totally oblivious.

“This was nice, I’m shocked that we found the time, put I think a morale boost was in order.” She said, curling up on the couch with a steaming cup of tea in hand, patting a space beside her for him to fill.

“I’m surprised the tree is still up, and that nobody lit anything on fire.” Grant confessed, careful to keep space between the two of them. 

“There’s always tomorrow. Did you have fun? I can’t imagine Christmas was really a celebratory occasion in your house.” Jemma asked, turning to face him, curiosity and hope open for him to see.

“I think so, even if I never want to see egg nog again.” He said, smiling, because yes, he did have fun, even if he hadn’t quite gotten his wish.

“I could say the same. I’ve never liked mistletoe, it has so many uses, one of them being as a poison. It’s so much more interesting that way than as a method for forcing affection on people.” Jemma said, twirling a sprig in her free hand, thoughtfully eyeing the berries.

“I think you might be the only person I know who would try to kill someone with a Christmas decoration.” Grant murmured, looking at the woman as fondly as possible without spooking her.

“You say that like it’s unusual, I’m sure you’ve certainly attempted it.” Jemma huffed, her nose scrunching a little at his statement.

“Not that I can recall, though I was briefly considering strangling Skye with a length of ribbon.” Grant joked, recalling the ease with which Jemma had kissed her and feeling jealousy well up in his chest again.

“Oh? May I ask why?” Jemma inquired, setting her tea down on the table.

“Maybe she got what I wanted.” Grant intoned, recalling the pile of gifts Skye had received, and fervently hoped that Jemma would follow a similar line of thought.

“Did you make a list?”

“Yep.” 

“Well what was on it?”

“Just one thing.”  
“Oh…” Jemma faltered, anxiety darkening in her eyes, cheeks flushed a beautiful shade of pink.

“Not that I’m unhappy without it, I’m just not vocal about things I want, already having what I need.” Grant said, words tumbling out one after the other, hoping he hadn’t totally blown his chances by scaring her.

“You’re stubborn that way. I promise, I won’t tell. What do you, Grant Ward, want for Christmas?” Jemma asked, closing some of the space between them, lips curving up in a soft smile.

“You can’t guess?”

“Maybe I just want to hear you say it, I wasn’t sure until tonight that I wasn’t totally foolish for thinking the same way.”

“You, Simmons. I just want you, and honestly, this is enough.” Grant said, feeling heat rise in his cheeks, and his stomach roiling with nerves. He’d done so many things, and she hadn’t judged, she hadn’t pushed, she only took the time to care for him, and listen. 

“I’m glad it’s enough for you, but it isn’t for me.” Jemma said, leaning over and softly bringing her lips up to his own, her hands pressing lightly into his chest. Feeling that he could be allowed, Grant pulled her small frame against his, euphorically happy to have her there. 

“Merry Christmas.” Jemma said, eyes heavy lidded, and lips a little darker than before. She curled up against his chest, hair fanned out along the expanse, and yawned. Neither of them moved until morning, and it was all Grant could have ever asked for.


End file.
